


A Rainbow of Conclusions.

by Diabolical (Planetare)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood, M/M, Violence, gun shot wounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3882976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Planetare/pseuds/Diabolical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Iero, top detective in NJ, is sent out to New York to investigate the most unusual crime in his career.<br/>He's got no leads.<br/>No link between victims.<br/>No nothing.</p><p>(A redo of my old story which was utter trash, this one should be better)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rainbow of Conclusions.

Frank wakes up alone in his apartment, as normal. He's exhausted again which is also, as normal. And he's on the floor instead of the bed next to him.

''Ugh...'' He rubs his head, mussing his greasy hair and pushes with his elbows to slowly lift himself up into sitting position, staring down at the many photographs of ugly balding old guys surrounding him. He's confused for 5 patient seconds till he remembers the night before and groans again, shoving himself back onto the carpet floor. Frank closes his eyes and lays there in the collection of old guys and lets out a sigh, turns his head to his left at the clock on the wall and reads in his blurry sleep vision that its 9:35.

 _Shit_  .

Work. He's already 5 minutes late to his 20 minute bus ride into the city center. Feeling at least thankful he decided against changing out of his work clothes, which essentially was just a collar shirt and a tie with jeans. When he smells himself he decides sleeping in his only good pair of clothes left may not have been a good idea. He stands up haphazardly. tripping to get to the cupboard in hope of a breakfast bar or _something_ to get him through the day. Eyes wide and gleaming he takes the bar and shoves it in his back pocket of his jeans saving it for the bus ride. _  
_

Once Frank tugs on his shoes. sprays on deodorant, picks up his keys, phone and wallet and combs his hair with his fingers, he's out the door.

............................

Frank opens the door to the police department and is greeted to the cliché smell of coffee and donuts, and the not-so-cliché face of Brendon Urie, the secretary. A.K.A; Frank's best friend. He stumbles back a bit when his chest is hit by a Styrofoam cup.

''Here you go Sweetie.'' Brendon sings with a smile. Frank grabs the cup, looks down at it and back up at Brendon and raises his eyebrow.

''Coffee?" It was coffee, obviously. There is nothing but yellow water or grimy coffee in this place, and Frank was sure the brown liquid wasn't water at least he hopped so. he wasn't the top detective for nothing. Brendon smirks.

''No shit Sherlock.''

''Fuck you, Watson. Why'd you bring me coffee?" Brendon didn't bring Frank coffee once they became friends. Frank brought _Brendon_ coffee. Well he did after Brendon put on a hissy fit when Frank asked him for a drink and claimed that ' _If we hang out after hours then we're friends. And I'm not working for a friend as I might grow to hate you if I do_.'

''Mark told me to get one, I got him one, he decided he didn't want it.'' Mark was the office's asshole of the month. Every month. With that, Frank eyes the cup suspiciously and without looking back up.

''That means you probably spit in it.'' Brendon shrugged.

''I didn't feel like it today.'' He says, which was good enough for Frank so he takes a sip, swallows and flicks his head to Brendon.

''Its cold.''

''Yeah.'' Was all Brendon replies before the subject changes to. ''Why do you smell like a used condom?" To that, the detective groans, hoping no one would notice it. But if Brendon, who generally doesn't give a shit what you do as long doesn't involve him, which he sort of made sure that it always did, made it apparent that Frank was in a bad state then frank was screwed. Frank presses his fingers to his temple.

''I decided to sleep in my work clothes.'' he explains.

Brendon raised his eyes. ''It takes all night to find a guy who mugged an old lady? Its like the oldest trick in the book. People still do that crap?" 

''Apparently, a lot of bald dudes in this city'' and walks behind the desk to his office, coffee still in hand.

.............................................

 

Of all the people at their desk in the homicide department, working hard and cracking cases, or hammering at them at least. Frank was the one who was the best at this job in New Jersey, not a case un-cracked or proven right or wrong. And though this was true, of all the people at their desks today, he was the one playing Pacman on his computer.  
The past month had been hard for Frank. Ever since Ray was newly stationed to New York , his head has been too fuzzy to think, He had only solved three crimes this month. And two of them had been simple muggings. He was starting to feel like he was letting his workmates down, even though literally no one but his boss gave a damn, and that sucked. It might look like Frank is slacking, which he is. It's only that he's doing it in an active way. He'd finally finished identifying the mugger and did all the paper work and filled out the files and sent  the right people to the right place to arrest the right guy.. But he's just too lazy and tired to ask for another simply boring case.

What he needs is a big one, a bold one, a case that would get his mind off of all this crap, or at least off of Blinky chasing him for eternity. But thats when he sees it. On the USNews website.

_Pretty on the inside too._  
_3 people, found in the alley's of New York, have fallen victims to an unknown serial killer. The people, Victoria Lewis, 25 Thomas Paulson, 16 and Brian Wild, 43 were all found shot 3 times; The head, the chest (supposedly aimed for the heart) and the palm of their dominant hand. If the pattern wasn't weird enough, their blood had been drained, colored and somehow filled back into the victims body. the details have not been disclosed yet._  
_The first victim, Victoria Lewis' blood was found an unnaturally bright red behind a nightclub named Fire at Sunnyside by a passerby 6 hours after the initial murder. While the second's, Thomas Paulson, was seen orange in his back garden on Heath St and the third victims blood, Brian Wild's, was found yellow at his bar The Iron Bull. All of these killings were thought to be held near the same area about a week in between each other._  
_"I am unable to report anything due to the seriousness of this act and the confidentiality that comes with such things, though I fully advise for the people of New York to be more wary while on the streets, to take care of each other and to make sure you get home after dark quickly. Lock your doors and windows at night and to be cautious. A curfew will not be made until it is clear that these murders are deemed a whole threat to the population of New York." Was all Policeman Raymond Toro had to say on the matter._  
_If no leads have been found, the streets on New York are no longer safe. Be wary New Yorkers._

_Check in tomorrow for new updates._

_Reported by Linda Strought._

The streets of New York were never safe in the first place, he thinks. But still, he has to talk to his captain about this. This is what he needs, this is the kind of thing that gets you focused and ready or you die trying. Frank needed this psychotic, mind-numbingly hard and fucked up case that will push him to his limits an further. Noticing Ray's name Frank knows he has a chance, he pushes his spiny chair back with the balls of his feet and stretches his fingers outwards and sighs.

Time to make a few phone calls.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like/don't like it tell me please!! I'm dying to know what was so crap and what I can do to make it less crap.


End file.
